Journey Come 'Round
by Mandy138
Summary: A cycle comes full circle…and its traveler is now weary. [Kakashi]


* * *

It was cold, the grass brown on the prairie he walked on, dotted in places by snow. The few trees that had managed to survive along the creek's banks of which he followed bare and frozen; in time until the warm spring air breathes once more and by wind's icy fingers both. It whipped through his hair, pushing it about in all manner of ways. He let it. As if he could stop it. It was the nature of the beast. Just another inconvenience among many in the mission. But no matter. He was on his way home and soon enough the sleeping plains with its dead grass and sinister winds would give way to forest and rivers and be kept at bay by the mighty wall of Konoha.

His bed waited there, with his books and its warmth and his peace of mind.

He couldn't ever remember being so annoyed with an assignment before. The sheer stupidity of all involved parties was absolutely incredible. He lost much respect and faith for the human race this time around. Maybe he was getting too old for this line of work.

Perhaps.

Perhaps.

He would have to seriously consider retirement upon his return. At least from the field. He seriously doubted the integrity of his sanity if he were to remain home doing nothing but reading or whatever else struck a momentary fancy. It would only provide amusement for so long. But students…they were guaranteed for endless hours of it. Maybe he would teach again. Maybe he could get it right the third time.

Yes, he thinks he'll take on students once again. But if they ever came close to being his last two teams, he would resign then and there, abandon them on the spot. He couldn't lose a third team. He just couldn't take it again. It would break him. His days on the mission field were ending, it seemed, and teaching wouldn't be such a bad way to spend it. He'd just have to avoid any child prodigies.

He was getting cut more, seeing Sakura more – being sent to the hospital more – staying longer… Not that he minded their meetings – they were the best and worst moments of being in there – but he just didn't think over a hospital bed was the best place to reunion at. Sometimes patients never left their beds. He wasn't about to be one of those…ever. Each time he left he vowed it his last. He had yet to make good on that promise. But he shouldn't be surprised. Each failure was another promise broken.

Why were promises always so hard to keep? Or was it only so for him? Was he just fated to let down all whom he held dear? He…_loved_ them all. Why couldn't he ever just _prove it_ by being there to save them, to uphold vows spoken and unspoken alike? He couldn't ever figure that out. Perhaps if he could, he would have been able to save the last.

He readjusted his backpack, hooking his thumbs under its straps as he walked, hiking it further up to rebalance the weight more evenly over his body. The action produced desired results but took toll, leaving in wake a deep grimace tallying up the receipt. His arm _throbbed_. He should probably seek Sakura out immediately upon re-entry. It really didn't look good at last assessment. He knew infection was setting in. He'd applied what knowledge he knew but he was no medic. It just reinforced the obvious.

He was _tired_.

He could no longer stay ahead. It was taking his all just to keep up, and just barely at that. Those he battled had one advantage that he could never again have sought to obtain: youth.

It was time to get out.

The crumpled blades beneath his feet crunched, giving way under his steel-supported sandals. His crossing was not yet over, but it was ever nearing, for now he could see the mass shadow of the forest that would lead him to Konoha in the far off expanse. His gaze fell to those sandaled feet crushing the slumbering wilds of the prairie, glossing over the vest, the bindings, supports, weapons pouches; no detail escaping his sharp sight, lethally edged mind. The noise of the dead plants and cawing of distant birds provided comfort to the memory he was engraving. After all, who knew? This could be the last time he would ever wear this again.

He wouldn't miss it.

Not anymore.

* * *


End file.
